


emergency plus one

by FabulousPotatoSister



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crushing, F/F, Fluff, No editing we die, Pining, Weddings, edit 2/9/19: I inserted a line I forgot to put in!!! Heck!!!, hand-holding, to be honest I wrote this in 40 minutes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 21:31:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17691440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FabulousPotatoSister/pseuds/FabulousPotatoSister
Summary: a series of unfortunate events leads to one (1) good one.





	emergency plus one

So, the good news:

 - you were been invited to a wedding by an old friend (fun!);  
 - there was probably gonna be a lot of food and drink and good music;  
 - and the Doctor was coming with you!

But with the postives, there are negatives, like:

 - The Doctor parked the TARDIS right beside the reception venue and just minutes after it started (so you were late);  
 - you weren’t wearing the right clothes, in face you were still wearing a heavy jacket from your last visit to an icy planet;  
 - and the Doctor was coming with you.   
 - And she was with you.   
 - Right now.

Cut to the reception, where the Doctor’s standing next to the buffet table, leaning down to look at every dish carefully. She’s making passing comments like “this plate looks like a bunch of Enochian eyes! I should know, I was an Enochian surgeon for a few years,” (she was, you were there - unfortunately) or “Did you know, I once went to a wedding where the buffet table was the size of the planet! Granted, it was a small planet, but can you imagine that?”

You’re sure some of the guests are talking about her, but you’re too busy watching her to care. She’s a whirlwind in a lilac coat, and she’s mesmerizing to just look at. A bright smile with even brighter eyes and a brighter mind.

 _Is it okay for me to look at her like that?_ you wonder,  _with such adoration? With such affection? With such -_

You turn when someone calls your name - slowly in your heavy jacket - and find the bride, glowing in a flowing white gown, flowers in her braided hair, beaming at you. You manage an awkward smile.

“I’m so glad you could come,” she says softly. “When are you going to introduce us?”

“To?”

“To her, silly. That lady you came with. The one you keep staring at.”

You glance at the Doctor just as she picks up a grape, and she catches your eye.  _Ah._

“Her,” you mutter, hiding your hands behind your back. You clasp and unclasp them. “She’s - uh, she’s a friend. We met while she was travelling.”

Suddenly, the Doctor’s beside you, all polite smiles. The air smells like honey all of a sudden. “Actually,  _I_  met her. I’m the Doctor.”

The bride beams once more. You can’t help but hate how she looks so amused, seeing the two of you stand together. There’s a mischievous shine in the bride’s eyes as she rubs her gloved hands together, daintily.  

“Doctor, so nice to meet you,” she says, and then looks at you, somewhat pointedly. “Is she your date?”

The word echoes in your mind,  _date_ , and your eyes flit to the Doctor’s. She isn’t looking at you, her mind working.

And for some reason, for some inexplicable reason, you take this small moment in time to memorize the features of the Doctor’s face - from the small marks on her face (like constellations) that slope over every nook and cranny to the brightness and intensity of her hazel eyes and to her lips as they purse in thought. What would you give to see her every day, to admire her not as if she was something on display, but as if she  belonged to you?

The thought of it - it’s a lot.  _It’s a lot._

_(But it's everything, you decide. You would give everything.)_

“ _Yes_ ,” the words just burst out of your mouth.  _Stop it!_  “She’s - she is my date. We travel together. She’s like my plus one! For today at least. We’re not, you know -” You’re rambling - “together or anything - ”

And then - you feel a hand wrap around yours, feel fingers thread through yours and clasp together just as easy as breathing - and you look down,  _and the Doctor is holding your hand_.

“Shush,” she says, soothingly. “Yes, I’m her date.”

There is something unspoken about the way she holds your hand. It’s different - it isn’t like when she grabs your hand in desperation, pulling you away from danger.

(Right now, it’s almost like she’s pulling you to danger.)

But you don’t care about that - instead you focus on the way your hand feels in hers, and how natural it is, and how you could do this forever.

You can’t help it. You smile, and the Doctor turns to look at you. Slowly, a smile spreads over her features as well, and the sight could rival the sun.

The bride looks pleased. She clasps her hands together. “Well then, I’ll be off! Have fun with your date, dear!”

She walks off, a long white gown trailing after her as she disappears into a crowd of guests.

You exhale, fully expecting the Doctor to let go of your hand because the ruse was over, but she doesn’t let go. She grasps it tighter instead, looking at you like you’re something she’s never seen before. Her eyes bright, full of wonder.

“Aren’t you going to let go of my hand now?” you ask, even though your brain is screaming at you that you should never let go.

But the Doctor smiles, and looks down. “Oh, I don’t know. I quite like this, actually.”

She swings your hand in hers, placing her free hand in her coat pocket, and you just enjoy it. The feeling’s yours, for now.

_(You end up holding the Doctor’s hand for most of the reception, even as she drags you around to look at food and compare it to things she’s seen on her travels, and even as she threads through crowds of people to find a place to dance. She doesn’t seem to mind.)_


End file.
